


Patience, Subtlety and Skill

by abstractconcept



Series: The Dildo Made Me Do It [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Chan, Consent Issues, Crossgen, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex-Pollen type of deal, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Whipping, dirtybadwrong, snaco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractconcept/pseuds/abstractconcept
Summary: Draco’s sucking up to Professor Snape when they come across a magical object to bring out the beast in anyone. Professor Snape has more self-control than Remus, but will it last in the face of Draco’s ambitions?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a follow up to ‘An Apple a Day.’

“I found this under Lupin’s desk. Here,” Draco said.  
  
Snape held out his hand and the metal glinted as it fell, end-over-end, landing on his palm. “Well, well, well . . .”  
  
“What is that thing?” Draco asked.  
  
Snape’s long fingers closed around the thing, and he smiled, quick and snakelike, his black eyes suddenly blazing. “It’s a magical object.”  
  
“It is? Are you—are you all right? You look . . . different. Should I do something?”  
  
Snape was looking at him oddly, sort of hungry and intent, and Draco felt his stomach squirm in a warm, excited way. “I’m fine, but there is something you could do to help.”  
  
Reaching out, Snape traced Draco’s wrist with his free hand. Draco thought he’d never felt anything as erotic as Snape’s fingers against his pulse point. “What is it? I’ll do anything. What do you want me to do?” he asked.  
  
“Let me show you,” Severus purred, and gestured Draco forward. “Come.”  
  
Draco came.  
  
“I’ll follow you anywhere,” he said, mesmerized.  
  
Snape’s eyes flashed. “Will you, now?” He grabbed Draco, no longer gentle.  
  
Draco gasped as the Professor suddenly yanked him forward, his cruel fingers curled painfully tight around Draco’s wrist.  
  
“I see the way you watch me,” the man whispered in his ear.  
  
Draco made what he hoped was a neutral noise and didn’t sound too much like a whimper of pleasure. “I’m supposed to watch you,” he countered. “You’re the one teaching me. Besides, if you caught me staring out the window you’d give me _such_ a spanking . . . wouldn’t you?” He made an effort at fluttering his eyelashes a little. _Just_ a little—nothing too overt. “I wouldn’t want you to spank me,” he lied.  
  
Snape pulled back, arching an eyebrow. “I suppose I would spank you,” he said after thinking it over.  
  
_Holy mother of Merlin,_ Draco thought. Had he really managed to plant the idea of it in Snape’s head? His cock stirred in his pants at the vision. He sure didn’t know what the magical object did, he was pretty sure he’d like every moment of it.  
  
“What do you think, Draco?” Snape asked him, lightly caressing Draco’s face with the back of his hand. “Have you done anything recently that would warrant a spanking?”  
  
“ _Have_ I!” Draco’s thoughts raced furiously. “I tried to put Shrinking Solution in Potter’s pants, but the House Elves cleaned them up before I could. I dropped a pickled scorpion in Longbottom’s cleaning solution and spoilt it. And I took a stink beetle and put it in McGonagall’s desk and tried to convince her Weasley did it, but she didn’t listen and gave Goyle detention instead. And that’s just this week!”  
  
Snape stared at him. “Except for the incident with the beetle. . . I see little reason to punish you.”  
  
Now Draco did whimper, though it was mostly in frustration. “And—and—and I stole one of your shirts.”  
  
“When did you get the opportunity, and why bother?”  
  
“When I was in the laundry, trying to convince the House Elves to let me have Potter’s underpants. And I—I . . .”  
  
“Finally a real misdeed? Something even you won’t brag about?” Snape asked. “And getting into Potter’s underpants?” he remarked darkly.  
  
“No—not his—yours. That is—your shirt. That’s when I took it.” Draco wasn’t sure, at first, why he’d taken the shirt. He only knew it was Snape’s; he could tell by the buttons on the cuffs. But he certainly wasn’t going to tell the man what he’d used it for.  
  
“Well . . . I suppose theft _is_ deserving of punishment, at least when you steal from me,” Snape said. He dragged Draco bodily over to his desk.  
  
“What are you going to do?” Draco asked, trying to fight off shivers of anticipation.  
  
“What don’t you _want_ me to do?” Snape returned, eyes dark with the promise of sadomasochistic bliss.  
  
Draco beamed. “I certainly don’t want you to lash me down and rip my clothes off and thrash me until I’m bleeding and then fuck me,” he blurted.  
  
For a brief moment, the Potions Master looked well and truly shocked, but he masked it quickly. “My goodness, and did you want a pony as well?”  
  
Draco shrugged. “Bestiality doesn’t do it for me, but I’d love a bit of riding crop.” He knew Snape didn’t really believe him, didn’t know about the candles and the pins and the nipple clamps he kept in his trunk, but it didn’t matter.  
  
Smirking, Snape pushed Draco down on the desk. Lupin’s papers scattered like autumn leaves, settling on the floor in a heap. “Doesn’t your father discipline you enough?” Snape asked.  
  
Draco made a face. “Yes, but it isn’t any fun when _he_ does it.” He gave Snape a flirtatious smile. He’d messed about with other boys a bit, but he’d never done anything like this. Suddenly Draco felt as though a reservoir of erotic fancies had built up in him, and the dam was about to burst. “ _Please_ ,” he said.  
  
“You do beg prettily,” Snape breathed. His hand moved to Draco’s backside, but didn’t strike. To Draco’s surprise, the exploratory touch was still incredibly arousing. Snape’s eyes were locked on his as his hand rubbed erotic circles on Draco’s arse. _I’m fondling you, Snape’s eyes seemed to be saying. I’m fondling you and watching you, knowing all the time that you’re aware of this and couldn’t stop me if you wanted to._ It was the most arousing thing Draco had ever experienced.  
  
“Please,” he murmured again, shutting his eyes. He began pushing back against Snape’s hand, seeking friction, seeking something _more_.  
  
Snape swatted him.  
  
“Mph,” Draco groaned, his prick growing stiff.  
  
Suddenly, Snape’s hands were gone. Draco blinked. The man had stepped back a few feet, arms crossed over his chest. “You are filthy,” he said. Draco’s heart nearly stopped. What was Snape doing? What the man rejecting him? “I think you need to be taught a lesson. Robes off, trousers down,” Snape commanded.  
  
Nearly weak with relief, Draco unbuttoned his robes and slipped them over his head. Snape watched him closely, and Draco hesitated undoing his trousers, suddenly feeling a little shy.  
  
“ _Now,_ ” Snape barked.  
  
There was nothing for it, so Draco shimmied his trousers down. There was no hiding the excitement he felt; his prick strained at his shorts, a little spot of precome making them nearly translucent right near the tip.  
  
“I see,” was all Snape said. He reached out and traced Draco’s cock with a long finger, trailing it slowly from the head of Draco’s prick right down to balls. Draco wanted to cry out, to really beg, but Snape stopped. “Take them down.”  
  
Trembling, Draco obeyed. Jesus, he felt naked. He _was_ naked, but somehow he felt even more naked than that.  
  
“Bend over the desk.” Draco did so dumbly. Again, the man touched him, but not the way Draco would have liked. He slipped his feet between Draco’s, nudging them apart.  
  
Draco groaned. “Touch me more.”  
  
Snape gave a little sniff of derision. “Draco, you are a very lovely creature, but you have a few flaws I’d like to discuss.”  
  
“ _Flaws?_ ” Draco repeated, now getting angry. He’d bent over for sex, damn it! Raunchy rough sexual intercourse, not a bloody lecture.  
  
“Mmmm.” Snape must have used wandless magic, because Draco’s school tie wormed its way up the side of the desk and wrapped itself around his wrists and hands, binding him. While ordinarily he would have quite liked that sort of thing, he wasn’t going to be tied to the desk just to be talked to.  
  
“Snape,” Draco said, standing up.  
  
The man flourished his wand and Draco was bent again. He could barely move at all.  
  
“You’re impatient,” the man said. “That’s one of your greater flaws. You’ll never see any victories in life unless you’re willing to plan ahead. Second, you lack subtlety. The shape of your mouth nearly makes up for it, but not quite.”  
  
“Snape—you’re being a bastard,” Draco dared to say. “My father will hear about this.”  
  
The man walked slowly round the desk, smiling a little. He looked for all the world as though he’d gone for a stroll in the garden. “You really do have a pretty mouth. It’s made for pouting. Incidentally, when I’ve finished spanking you I’m going to put you down on your knees with my cock as far down your throat as it will go.”  
  
“Snape, I—really?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“But . . . after _what_ spanking? You’ve barely touched me,” Draco complained. His cock, on the other hand, wasn’t complaining it all. His cock was loving every torturous moment of this, the traitor.  
  
“Patience, subtlety and skill— _those_ are the Slytherin watchwords.” Snape bent and kissed the nape of Draco’s neck so lightly it sent a ticklish sort of shudder up Draco’s back. “What are the Slytherin watchwords, Draco?”  
  
“Patience, subtlety and skill,” Draco repeated. “Will you spank me if I do it right?”  
  
Snape sighed. He ran a fingertip down Draco’s spine, raising gooseflesh. “What were you doing with my shirt?” he inquired.  
  
“N-nothing.”  
  
“Really?” Snape reached over, loosening Draco’s bonds just a little, enough to turn one hand palm up. He skated his finger back and forth, skimming Draco’s palm, his thumb, the pads of his fingers.  
  
Merlin _above,_ Draco was hard. He didn’t think he’d ever been this hard.  
  
“God, can’t you _please_ touch me a little more?”  
  
“But I am touching you more. Each time I’m touching you in a place you’ve not been touched before.” So saying, Snape bowed his head and skittered his wet tongue-tip over the sensitive flesh of Draco’s hand.  
  
“ _Fuck,_ ” Draco groaned.  
  
“I admit, I’m pleased with your precociousness. You’re very adventurous and you want a lot, and frankly my appetite is not small. But when you’re my age, you will appreciate how numerous small courses, beautifully prepared, can be so much better than, say, one large, overcooked steak. Does the metaphor work for you?”  
  
Draco whimpered. “But I just want _your_ steak,” he whined. “And lots of it.” He wriggled so that he could give the man a needful look. “I just want to be full of you,” he added.  
  
Snape licked his lips. Then he dropped to his knees behind Draco.  
  
“Wait. What are you doing?”  
  
Draco felt a sharp nip to the back of his calf. “That—you don’t need—” Snape kissed the back of his knee, then drew a wet, hot path there with his tongue. Draco was surprised. Everything felt so good, and it wasn’t even sex. These were places _anybody_ could touch him. And yet they were somehow private places, too. The back of his knee? Whoever would have thought of that as erotic?  
  
“Slytherin watchwords?” Snape asked, his lips moving against the tender skin of Draco’s inner thigh.  
  
“Um. Subtlety and something?” Draco’s prick was straining now, and he was beginning to rut against the surface of the desk.  
  
Snape was on his feet in an instant. “Patience, subtlety and skill!” he snarled. The man shook his wand and it twisted, flexing and transforming into a riding crop.  
  
“Ooooooh,” Draco breathed. “Are you going to hit me with it?” he plead, each note an agonized supplication of need.  
  
“I’m going to teach you.” The crop did not hit Draco. No, it kissed the softest, most vulnerable part of his neck. “Patience. That is the first key to unlock passion.”  
  
“Yes,” Draco mumbled obediently.  
  
Suddenly there was a _snap_ and a lick of fire on Draco’s backside. He grunted, fingernails digging into the surface of the desk.  
  
“What did you do with my shirt?” Snape hissed.  
  
“I—used it,” Draco gasped.  
  
“How?”  
  
Draco squirmed, but didn’t answer.  
  
“I see.” Snape skimmed the crop along Draco’s back, tracing gentle, mesmerizing patterns.  
  
“Aren’t you going to hit me again? For insubordination or something?”  
  
Snape laughed a dark little laugh. “No.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You like it. You get what you want after you’ve given me what I want, and not before.”  
  
Draco sighed. He pretended to study the top of Lupin’s desk, which was scratched and old. Not that it was any worse than Snape’s; potions had a tendency to eat away at even the best lacquers.  
  
“Still no answer?” Snape questioned.  
  
Draco didn’t _want_ to tell Snape what he’d done. He kept his face turned away.  
  
“Very well,” the man said.  
  
Draco found his bonds loosening. “Wait—what are you doing?”  
  
“I like games, but only played by my rules,” Snape said.  
  
Eyes wide, Draco spun to face Snape. “You can’t stop now—” he began, just as Snape hissed, _“Legilimens!”_  
  
Draco was on his knees in the laundry, rummaging through clothes. He stopped suddenly, seeing a crumpled white shirt. He pulled it loose by one arm. There were buttons all down the cuff—more than any sane man could need.  
  
He set it aside and kept rooting, looking for Potter’s underpants.  
  
_“Ah, so that’s the theft of my shirt,”_ Snape’s voice interjected. It echoed a little and sounded like it was coming from a long way off. _“Why did you set it aside?”_  
  
Draco saw himself arguing with the house elves.  
  
He didn’t answer Snape’s question. He didn’t have to answer. And he could throw Snape out anytime; he knew how. He’d known Occlumency for years, because his father insisted on teaching him. But he didn’t have to throw Snape out, either, and maybe it would be easier to let the man see rather than having to actually explain it.  
  
Things sort of swirled, and then he was creeping back to his rooms with the shirt.  
  
_“Back to your bed, I see,”_ Snape intoned. _“And yes, a silencing spell around the perimeter. The saviour of many a pubescent boy. Aren’t you a bit young for all this?”_  
  
Draco wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like it was his fault. He was a teenager. He hadn’t hit puberty—puberty had hit _him._ And _hard._ For the past year or so, Draco barely thought about anything besides wanking. Speaking of which . . .  
  
Memory-Draco buried his face in the shirt, inhaling deeply. They’d been using rosemary in class and the subtle evergreen scent had infused the man’s clothes, mixing with the sweet and acrid hints of musk. Groaning, Draco rubbed his face in the cloth.  
  
_“Did you enjoy that?”_ Snape asked. Draco wouldn’t admit that now every time he smelled rosemary he got hard. _“I wonder what you’d think if I pressed your face to my crotch?”_  
  
Oh, god.  
  
_“Look at you, struggling to get out of your robes as quickly as possible. You have beautiful skin, though. Every inch of it pale, perfect, glowing with health like molten moonlight.”_  
  
If Draco had been capable of smirking, he would have. Surely Snape didn’t wax this poetic about just anyone.  
  
“And here you are, touching yourself with my shirt, rubbing it over your body.” Now Snape’s voice was coloured with amusement as Draco writhed on the bed, caressing his neck and chest with the shirt. _“It’s not going to take much more, is it? You’re too young and much too excited. Your face is flushed, your eyes dark . . . that’s it, just a little lower,”_ he purred.  
  
Memory-Draco was reaching down, curling the arm of Snape’s shirt around his prick, fondling himself, pumping and pumping, biting his lip and then—  
  
Draco gasped, literally breaking the spell. He whimpered, breathing heavily. “God, I remember what that felt like,” he said, half-regretting the fact that he hadn’t climaxed in the present and his cock was still achingly stiff. Why wouldn’t Snape just fuck him already? He looked at the man beseechingly.  
  
Snape was smirking, eyes glittering with sensual malevolence. “That’s why you took it, hmm? You came all over my nice, clean shirt,” he said.  
  
“It was actually already dirty,” Draco told him sweetly.  
  
“Imp. Roll over. On your stomach right now.”  
  
Draco did as he was told. “What next?”  
  
“You gave me what I wanted. You let me see what you’d done with my shirt. Now, I give you what you want.”  
  
_Fuck yes._ A ribbon of sweet pain raced along his backside.  
  
“More?” Snape inquired.  
  
“ _Yes._ Harder!”  
  
Draco barely had time to brace himself before the riding crop came down again, and again, and once more, each swish accompanied by a lovely snap and a jolt of titillation.  
  
Draco let out a long, shaking breath. He could feel the pure, sexual heat building in his abdomen, his cock stiff, his heart racing. God, he hoped he didn’t embarrass himself and come all over Snape’s shoes or something before the man even had the opportunity to undress.  
  
So thinking, Draco held up a hand.  
  
“Too much for you? You are a delicate creature, probably due to inbreeding,” Snape noted with an acid smile.  
  
Draco gave him a dirty look. “When do I get to see you naked?” he asked.  
  
The Potions Master shrugged, circling Draco like a cat. “I would have thought you’d prefer the spotlight on yourself.”  
  
“It’s not all about me. And I guess it is kind of fun to draw things out. Patience, right?”  
  
Snape smiled. “Indeed.”  
  
“Let me suck your cock,” Draco purred.  
  
Snape arched a brow. “It’s not usually on the curriculum, certainly not in potions,” he hedged.  
  
“My father has an extensive collection of unusual works of pornographic nature. I think I get the general gist of oral sex,” Draco told the man, getting down on his knees. The floor was cold and hard, but he didn’t care. All he could think about the warmth and hardness of Snape’s prick and the nice contrast it would make.  
  
“Is that why you’re so precocious?”  
  
“You did promise me your prick down my throat as far as it would go,” Draco said, ignoring the question. _Take me. Use me. Find pleasure in me.’’_ The thoughts rose like wisps of steam from Draco’s parted lips.  
  
Professor Snape unbuttoned the front of his robes just enough that the fat tip of his cock poked out.  
  
Just a glimpse took Draco’s breath away. He and Blaise had played about once in the loo, but Blaise was his age, barely a teen, and nothing to compare to Snape. Eagerly, Draco took the man’s cock into his mouth.  
  
Snape’s breath hitched. “Be careful with your teeth,” he warned.  
  
Draco obeyed, concentrating on building a rhythm, hoping he could put a dent in Snape’s famous armor of composure.  
  
Then Snape took Draco’s face in his hands and began to fuck his mouth.  
  
“Good boy,” Snape whispered.  
  
Draco could feel himself flushing, his face hot against Snape’s cool fingers. God, what a fucking turn on. Nothing excited him like Snape’s dark voice doling out much-sought-after praise.  
  
“You can take more,” the man told him. “Relax your throat. You’ll have to take me deeper if you want to be allowed to come.”  
  
Draco tried, he really did, but it was hard not to gag. At the same time, the sheer size of Snape was also making him lightheaded in a good way. He redoubled his efforts, but kept having to come up for air, coughing. It was frustrating; he’d never wanted to please anyone this badly.  
  
“I think you can do better,” Snape growled.  
  
This time, Draco wasn’t given so much of a choice as the man’s prick pushed against the back of his throat. Draco’s eyes flew open wide as the shaft slid smoothly down his throat. Snape groaned, withdrew enough to let Draco breathe, and thrust himself down Draco’s throat again.  
  
There was a split second of stillness as Draco looked up, wide eyed, shocked that he’d managed to take that thick cock all the way in.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Snape snarled. He began to fuck Draco’s mouth in earnest.  
  
Draco moaned, and Snape echoed the noise, pulling back.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Draco asked.  
  
Snape laughed shortly, drawing a hand across his eyes. “Too close,” he murmured.  
  
Draco beamed. “Well, you know. You’re an awfully good teacher.”  
  
“In what respect?”  
  
“Patience, subtlety and,” Draco leant forward and flicked his tongue over the head of Snape’s prick, “skill,” he said smugly. Draco took one of Snape’s hands and pressed it to his throat. “Here. Squeeze here,” he urged. He began to suck the man’s cock again.  
  
Snape stiffened. He gestured to stop, and Draco went still. “Do you know what you’re asking?” he murmured.  
  
“It’s just the choking game. Lots of people do it.”  
  
“It is much, _much_ more dangerous than you know. Have you done this alone?”  
  
Shrugging uncomfortably, Draco replied, “Once or twice.”  
  
Snape looked suddenly angry. “You do _not_ indulge in this without supervision. Do you understand me? You . . . you come to me if you feel you must. But you never, under any circumstances, play with auto-asphyxiation if you are not under my observation. It’s dangerous.”  
  
“Yes, sir. Only with you. From now on. I promise,” Draco said. It was a promise he would keep, if he really could come to Snape when he needed it. Draco never would have said no to a deal like that. Not as long as Snape didn’t change his mind.  
  
Snape stared. Draco could see the gears turning over, the clicking in his head as he processed this. “All right,” he said finally. “Raise your hand.” Draco did, solemn as if he were taking an oath on the bible. “If that hand starts to slip,” Snape told him, “it’s done. If that hand moves, it means trouble.”  
  
Draco shrugged a little. “I don’t know, I think my arm will get tired. What about this? I rest my hand on your thigh, and if it moves, it means trouble. I can even squeeze to really say ‘stop,’ all right?”  
  
Snape nodded curtly. “Very well. And you never do this alone.”  
  
“Nope, never. Why would I, if I could have you? This is ten times sexier, I swear.” Draco went back to sucking, feeling the slick and the stretch and the sensuality of Snape sliding into his mouth, bumping against the back of this throat.  
  
Snape moaned softly. One of his hands cupped the back of Draco’s head, pulled him forward, stifling, choking, _good._  
  
God in heaven. Draco hadn’t realised that making someone else feel good could stoke his fires as well. Snape’s hand on his cheek, his deep groans, the way his eyes narrowed in concentration . . . Draco loved every moment.  
  
Then Snape let go of the back of Draco’s neck, both hands falling to his sides, then rising again, slowly, deliberately, circling Draco’s throat, pressing just a little, then a little more.  
  
Draco felt like time came to a halt when the oxygen stopped, even though he knew it hadn’t. Everything stilled. Everything seemed silent, suspended. He could feel the screaming tension build in his body, panic climbing up his veins, and it was so frightening and so helpless and so fucking, fucking _hot._  
  
Then Snape let go and Draco sucked the air in, sucked in down in great gulps. “Again,” he begged.  
  
Dubiously, Snape began to thrust again, picking up speed, his hands suddenly convulsing around Draco’s throat, pinching off the air.  
  
_God, fuck yes_ , was all Draco could think. He started to feel dizzy, floaty and good, and he reached down with his free hand, stroking himself until—  
  
Snape’s hands suddenly disappeared again and Draco was coming, jerking himself off as the beautiful fresh air flooded his lungs.  
  
He gasped, rocking in place, milking himself, spilling every drop on the freshly-swept floor. Then he realised Snape was standing motionless before him, staring.  
  
“Were you waiting on me?” Draco asked shyly.  
  
The man half-smiled. “I was merely savouring the expression on your face,” he murmured.  
  
Draco reached out, planting both hands on Snape’s hips. “Give me more,” he said, and licked a long, wet line up the underside of the man’s prick.  
  
“Just a little,” Snape agreed. He began to thrust again, his face smoothing, his eyes closed. Now it was Draco’s turn to savour—he couldn’t imagine Snape ever being this open, this vulnerable, not for anybody else.  
  
Unbidden, Draco pushed himself forward, swallowing the man again, taking as much as he could until he felt the scratch of pubic hair against his lips.  
  
Snape shuddered, then pushed Draco away. “I’m—” he began, then broke off, mouth going slack. With one hand on Draco’s face he began to pump himself.  
  
Draco couldn’t help a small noise of pleasure as the man came, his semen just splashing Draco’s cheek and jaw.  
  
“Good boy,” the man said again.  
  
“Thank you,” Draco replied. He smiled as Snape ran a thumb over his lips.  
  
“You’re a quick study,” Snape informed him.  
  
Draco didn’t answer. He was looking at Snape’s hands. One had been pulling his cock; the other had been cupping Draco’s chin. “Where’s the—the magical object?” Draco asked suddenly.  
  
The corner of Snape’s lip curled. “I must have set it down,” he said. He began to button himself up. Hastily, Draco threw his robes on, too.  
  
Hadn’t the magical object been compelling Snape this whole time? Draco was stunned. “When did you set it down?” he asked, trying to smooth his hair.  
  
Snape shrugged. He sauntered back to Lupin’s desk, flourishing his wand. The pile of parchment that had been pushed onto the floor fluttered back up and settled in a neat little stack. “What were the Slytherin watchwords, Draco?” Snape asked as he cast cleaning spells on the floor.  
  
“Patience, er, skill. . .” Draco watched as Snape removed the little silver bullet from a pocket and set it square in the centre of the students’ assignments, right where Professor Lupin would be sure to see it. He wouldn’t know for certain that the Potions Master put it there, but . . . “and subtlety,” Draco finished with a grin.  
  
“Very good,” Snape purred.  
  
Students began filing into the room, taking their places for Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
Snape turned his back on the class and began writing the assignment on the chalkboard. “See me after class for extra credit, Mr. Malfoy,” he said.  
  
Still grinning, Draco took his seat. “Yes, sir,” he replied.


End file.
